


the golden king and the clay doll

by kagako



Category: Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms, Fate/strange fake, fate series
Genre: Fluff, M/M, PLS read the notes idk what im sayin but im sayin stuff, Reunited and It Feels So Good, a gentler gilgamesh, in regards to our angel enkidu, mentions of a past death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-10
Updated: 2015-09-10
Packaged: 2018-04-20 00:14:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4766264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kagako/pseuds/kagako
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Heaven, Hell, and perhaps the Earth itself shook with the might of Enkidu’s song. What a strange fate it is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the golden king and the clay doll

**Author's Note:**

> its almost been a year since i have written ANYTHING i hope this isnt too sloppy.  
> anyways, fate is so good and im so glad i ended up watching this and gettin into the other ones as well, its all so good and i cry almost everytime 
> 
> gil might seem a bit un-gil in this fic but honestly i believe he is gentler, if anything, in fate strange fake, especially once he hears enkidus song towards the end of his own little part. ive based this off of what ive read in the novel and of gil's translated part of fsf manga.
> 
> some things might be unclear, like how the hell did gilgamesh get to enkidu, blah blah but honestly......... im not sure, i figured he'd be the type to go Straight to enkidu. he probably wouldnt bring tine along, her people need her and since she was so sneaky about obtaining a servant in the beginning, she probably wouldnt be in much danger anyways and eVEN IF there are command spells. yada yada. ANYWAYS i feel like i am getting far too off point so here we go.
> 
> please enjoy!

He remembers asking that foolish man _—“why do you mourn?”_

Gilgamesh remembers that mans answer, the way the other’s voice had cracked and the way those eyes had glistened with what he was sure were tears. His eyes hadn’t wavered from Enkidu’s own as he told him his reasons for mourning, the sorrow in his voice making Gilgamesh tilt his head as he wondered _“is this what humans do when they grieve?”_

And soon Gilgamesh had learned to mourn—the human in him rearing its ugly head and causing full panic within his chest, his mind, and it clouded his actions and muffled his senses. He remembers what it was like to mourn, for his voice to crack as he pleaded to the Gods, for sorrow and something that tasted like fear to lace his voice. As his shaky fingertips feathered over Enkidu’s icy cheek, the eyelids that would never rise to sunlight again, Gilgamesh understood why exactly humans grieved.

He remembers asking that foolish man— _“why do you rejoice?”_

Gilgamesh remembers that mans answer, the way Enkidu’s voice had been filled with excitement and joy, the way those eyes seemed to absorb the sunlight and give off a light that, Gilgamesh thought, could very well be called something of Enkidu’s own. He just barely hid a smile as his index finger went to rest on his lips, his eyes watching Enkidu as his arms extended, as his hands reached out, as his hair followed him in that merry dance. Gilgamesh let out a hearty laugh as Enkidu’s song resonated around them, and the King couldn’t help but wonder, _“is this what humans call beautiful?”_

And even to this day, standing outside the cave, looking down upon the little girl’s tribe—Tiné, she tells him, and he acknowledges it—Gilgamesh remembers Enkidu’s song, in the back of his mind.

The King hadn’t thought—was so terribly certain—he would ever hear it again.

Heaven, Hell, and perhaps the Earth itself shook with the might of Enkidu’s song. And oh, how it was a beautiful song. It rang with a soft joy and such powerful conviction that Gilgamesh was beginning to think he and that foolish man were together again in Uruk, and suddenly the image of Enkidu’s merry dance found its way to the surface of the King’s thoughts, and just slightly he felt himself waver. Gilgamesh willed his hand still as he gripped the bottle, bringing it down and away from his lips.

He tilted his head upward—west, where he could feel him. “That voice…” he spoke quietly, bewilderment taking form on his features. “Could it be?” The King could feel the surprise on his face, and as Tiné looked up to gaze at him questioningly, it seemed as though the stars and the moon had taken rest within his eyes.

Gilgamesh felt exhilarated as he spoke out with more volume, a sense of confidence—“Is that you?” _…Enkidu?_

Tiné watched the man in gold beside her, watched as the corners of his lips turned up, and she watched in something akin to amazement as the man let out a genuine laugh, his loud and arrogant presence beaming more profoundly than before.

_What a strange fate!_ he rejoiced in the privacy of his thoughts, calling out to Tiné, the sky, the moon and the stars, even to the _Gods—_ “Look upon me!”

How ecstatic the King was.

***

As Gilgamesh traveled lone westward, all thoughts vanished within his mind. Some had managed to stray in, Enkidu’s name laced within the sentences and little memories of his most recent song taking company. The King had only ever felt confidence—it rolled off him in waves along with _might,_ and _gleam_ and it all certainly showed his air was all but of a King. However, if Gilgamesh had to put a name on the feeling in his gut as of now… he would perhaps say there was a twinge of nervousness.

With a shake of his head, he knew the foolish man would laugh at him.

Or would he?

The King did not know what state that man was in, if his memory held strong through those hard trials or if Enkidu’s hands would remember the shape of his face, if his lips would still know how to form Gilgamesh’s name.

_Surely,_ Gilgamesh thought, _he is as one._

***

Once he stepped out of the green bush, the King ultimately felt renewed.

A soft _“oh!”_ greeted his ears, and Gilgamesh turned towards the sound quickly. The King let out his own yielding _oh,_ and his eyes widened as his sight was met with the same foolish man that stood alongside him all those lifetimes ago.

Quickly, Gilgamesh tried to regain his composure. He stood up a little straighter, cleared his throat, and narrowed his eyes. His fingertips twitched with need at his sides, so he curled them into his hands, scolding himself silently. Gilgamesh opened his mouth, and when no sound came out, he closed it once more, tilting his head as he took a step closer.

Silently, the King studied his companion.

Enkidu looked the same as ever—save for the occasional newly smooth-looking pink scars on his body that came from fighting beasts or men. His hair was still rather long, and Gilgamesh had to admit it was strange not seeing twigs and leaves nested in from being in the forest too long _._ Enkidu looked… _tamed,_ for lack of better word, almost as if the wilderness had left him—though, the King knew such a thing was ridiculous.

Neither of them would ever truly be “tame.”

A soft _“ah…”_  left Enkidu’s mouth, causing Gilgamesh to return from his thoughts. He met the other man’s eyes, raising a brow as he watched Enkidu watch him. He waited in anticipation for Enkidu to speak, and his eyes widened once more as he was granted a smile. “I knew it was you, Gilgamesh.”

_Oh… It truly has been so long, has it not…?_

Hearing Enkidu speak his name, the King felt the corners of his mouth twitch upward. He bit the insides of his cheeks, closing his eyes for a moment as he permitted only a small smile as he gave Enkidu another glance-over. “As did I, Enkidu.”

Speaking his name, _finally_ giving it form on his lips after so long, Gilgamesh felt a rush—of energy? pleasure?—course through his entire body. The corners of his lips twitched upward once more as he watched Enkidu’s face light up, as his eyes widened in excitement and as a bark of a laugh came from his lips. Enkidu’s footsteps seemed light as he closed the distance, and Gilgamesh tried to suppress a shiver when Enkidu let his hands rest on his forearms.

With another—albeit shaky—laugh, Enkidu looked up at Gilgamesh, a sense of wonder and delight settled so deep into his eyes that, for a moment, Gilgamesh lost his breath. “Oh, my King!” he exclaimed, and Gilgamesh felt his expression soften at the color in Enkidu’s cheeks, at the stars he saw in his eyes. “You are the very same, my King. Nothing about you has changed in the least.” With a pause, Enkidu let his grip tighten on Gilgamesh’s forearms for a moment. As he watched the King’s expression, Enkidu gave another smile. “Oh, but perhaps you have? You seem… gentler…no, that isn’t the word I am l—oh! Do pardon me. I kn—“

“No,” Gilgamesh interrupts him; eyes locked on Enkidu’s own as he moves his arms slowly, allowing the palms of his hands to rest upon his companions forearms, as well. He leans in to better look at Enkidu’s face. “I, too, know the feeling.” Gilgamesh squeezes the other’s forearms, a shaky breath coming from his lips as he gives Enkidu his own small smile. “Though, I must tell you that you have changed plenty.” He pauses here, his next words hesitant. The King keeps his gaze low as he speaks. “You are… so lively. Warm, even. You are unscarred and you are here, in front of me.”

He notices quickly how still Enkidu goes, how his smile falters little by little. “Forgive me,” Gilgamesh apologizes, and the aftertaste of the apology leaves him bewildered. “I am… simply ecst—“

Enkidu’s laughter interrupts him.

The King’s eyes go wide, and he straightens his posture as he watches his companion. “How strange an apology sounds from you, Gilgamesh! You need not apologize,” Enkidu says, giving Gilgamesh’s forearms a squeeze for emphases. “I know too well how you feel,” he continues, letting his arms fall to his sides, leaving his King feeling empty without contact—though, Enkidu feels just as empty. “I am here. I am alive. It truly is such a strange fate that I am here, and to be here with you, my golden King!” He spreads his arms wide, his smiling growing as he catches sight of the slight embarrassment on Gilgamesh’s face. Enkidu has a dance in his step as he spins in spite of himself, in spite of the circumstances. “You are ecstatic, Gilgamesh? I, as well! A thousand- fold!”

It makes Gilgamesh laugh—such a loud and booming sound that it shakes the trees, that the moon and the stars seem a little bit dimmer in comparison. Enkidu watches him laugh, and his heart beats alongside the laughter. He watches as the King throws his head back, as his eyes close and his lips give into his joy.

Enkidu has never felt more alive than he has now.

In the midst of his laughter, Gilgamesh rushes forward. The strength of his embrace surprises Enkidu, though he gives into it all the same—throwing his head back, matching his King’s laughter and the force of his embrace. They are spinning with each other in the open field—dancing together, they both think— when Enkidu hauls Gilgamesh up. His laughter is interrupted by his own yell of surprise, and his eyes go wide once he realizes that Enkidu had honestly hauled him up and off the ground.

Still, Enkidu doesn’t falter. He is alive and laughing, a yielding smile on his face. Gilgamesh can feel his companion’s heartbeat, and it matches his own so earnestly that his smile is soft as he thinks, _“he is what humans call beautiful.”_

“Ah!” Enkidu soon yelps, and it doesn’t take the King long to learn that the other had lost his footing against the slight dew of the grass. Even as the two are slammed together by gravity, the laughter doesn’t die and their smiles do not halt. “Was my weight too much, Enkidu?” Gilgamesh laughs, his fingers threading through the strands of grass. “Maybe you have gotten weak?”

“Dear, Gods!” he offers, curling his bare toes against the ground. “I do not think I wish to answer, my King.”

Gilgamesh snorts, closing his eyes against the cool, remote wind of the forest. He inhales deeply, the scent of the wilderness bombarding his mind. Surely, once he opens his eyes again the two of them will be in Uruk, in his bedchambers. He will hear his people chant their names like a prayer; he will hear little snippets from the townspeople about how Enkidu, the wild man, changed their King. _Certainly,_ he thinks, _Enkidu will roll against my person, and he will—_

Beside him, he feels Enkidu move. Gilgamesh opens his eyes—confused momentarily as he reminds himself: no, they aren’t in Uruk, sheltered in his bedchambers; no, his people are not chanting their names, commenting on how he has changed since Enkidu appeared; but—yes, Enkidu is…

He is greeted by the shine of Enkidu’s eyes, the roughness of another hand in the palm of his own. Gilgamesh gives a content hum, something that the man beside him reciprocates. Slowly, he allows his eyes to close in something like anticipation as Enkidu raises their clasped hands. The corners of the King’s lips are already twitching as he feels his companions sigh of _“my king”_ against the back of his hand, and soon he gives into a satisfied smile once Enkidu’s lips settle there for a moment.

“I have missed you, Gilgamesh.”

Gilgamesh lets out a small laugh, hoisting himself so he’s able to sit up, giving him a better view of Enkidu. He stares at him a moment, how he looks so content there, with his skin against the Earth and lightning bugs in his hair. The King lets out a small _hm_ before leaning toward the man beside him, and he doesn’t hesitant as he settles his lips against Enkidu’s.

A spark of energy, a rush of pleasure—the two of them feel it course through their veins, and soon the kiss grows hungry. Enkidu shoots up, settling himself on his knees in front of Gilgamesh, giving himself an advantage—and Gilgsmesh lets him. His hands rake through Gilgamesh’s hair—tugging, tugging, _tugging_ until his King lets out his own desperate growl. Gilgamesh pulls away enough so that he can nip at Enkidu’s bottom lip, and he brings his hands upward, cupping Enkidu’s face (to feel him, to still him, to—)

Gilgamesh forces the other’s mouth open, and soon he learns that Enkidu’s taste hasn’t changed, even with what felt like the eternity that separated them.

He sighs into Gilgamesh’s mouth, lowering himself the tiniest bit so he can press his chest against his King’s, and— _ah,_ Enkidu thinks, as he settles the palms of his hands against his King’s sides, against his ribs, _what a strong heartbeat._ Enkidu’s kiss becomes more forceful, and he nips at Gilgamesh’s bottom lip. He pulls back to lick at the place he nipped, then leans in again to nip, and—

_“Shit—!”_

Enkidu pulls away quickly, his hands quickly making their way to either side of Gilgamesh’s face. “Gil—?” he starts, and then a small gasp leaves his lips. Though, he cannot help but smile. He gives a small laugh, grazing his thumbs against the corners of Gilgamesh’s lips. “I must apologize,” Enkidu says gently, rubbing his forehead against his King’s. “I hadn’t meant to be so rough.”

With that, he pulls back, only to lean in once more to press his lips against Gilgamesh’s bleeding bottom lip. “I was… just very excited,” he explains, giving a sheepish laugh as he licks at the cut he had caused. Enkidu can taste the Earth, herbs he had tested for his Master, and Gilgamesh—but, not just his blood. “To be kissing you again, it is like a dream. When I was dying, I hadn’t thoug—“

Gilgamesh cuts him off with a kiss, his arms snaking around Enkidu’s waist as if to bring him closer.

The gesture makes Enkidu tilt his head, and he blinks through the heat he feels on his face when Gilgamesh buries his face in the crook of his neck. _How pathetic. After all this time, this heat still comes._ “Gilgamesh?”

“Enkidu,” he replies simply, huffing a breath as he regains his composure. Soon after, Enkidu can feel his King’s smile against his neck. “You’ve missed me, Enkidu?” Gilgamesh inquires, and Enkidu cannot miss the slight mocking in his tone. “I, as well. A thousand-fold,” he tells him, repeating what his companion had told him just a while ago.

It doesn’t take long for a wide smile to come across Enkidu’s face, and he throws his head back to let out the most deafening laugh he’s ever managed. He runs his fingers through Gilgamesh’s hair once more as he presses his lips to his King’s forehead, and after a while Enkidu merely says, “Truly… what a strange fate it is.”

“Yes,” he agrees, bringing his hands up to cup his companion’s face once more. “It truly is.”

Enkidu smiles, lowering his gaze. “Though, I must thank this fate.”

Gilgamesh’s laugh is gentle as he says, “As do I.”


End file.
